Death is Easy…Living is Hard
by Luna del Cielo
Summary: The slayer activation spell carried a double-edged gift with it. Buffy is immortal, but her friends are not. As death creeps upon them, she wonders how she can continue living in the absences.
1. Chapter 1

Death is Easy…Living is Hard

**Summary:** The slayer activation spell carried a double-edged gift with it. Buffy is immortal, but her friends are not. As death creeps upon them, she wonders how she can continue living in the absences.

**Fandoms:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer & the Mercy Thompson book series by Patricia Briggs.

**Pairing:** Hmmm, not sure if there will be one. And if there is, there are a slew of single delicious males in the Mercy Thompson series – not to mention I'm bringing over Oz into the story! :) So, feel free to ask for your desired pairing.

**Timeline:** recently after the events in Mercy Thompson book #4 'Bones Crossed'; 22 years after the events of BTVS s7 'Chosen'.

**Note #1:** Never read the Mercy Thompson books? Well, you are missing out. Fantastic stories – I may even like them better than Charlaine Harris. However, just because you have no knowledge of them doesn't mean you can't read this fic. I'll make sure to cover loose ends and keep newbies informed of what is what.

**Note #2:** I will be melding the two universes together – note the big jump in time in the BTVS verse; there will be a reason for that ;) However, there will be canon changes for both fandoms.

**Disclaimer:** Own BTVS & Mercy, I do not. Own them, Joss Whedon & Patricia Briggs, they do. Sue me not, you will.

"Not only are these knives the sharpest of their kind, but they have a lifetime guarantee!" the woman on the Home Shopping Network trilled in excitement. She granted the television audience with a winning smile, but it looked awkward. Too straight, too white. Almost inhuman.

_Inhuman_, Buffy snorted. Kinda like her. Like how Buffy couldn't buy those knives and expect a lifetime guarantee…not considering her lifetime was forever.

Well, unless she died in battle. Otherwise, Buffy was immortal.

Apparently.

She sighed heavily and stirred more sugar into her coffee. It was eight at night and she was stuck at yet another rest stop – this time in the Tri-Cities, Washington; her final destination. Since the revelation on the condition of her mortality, Buffy had been joyriding across the country.

Or more like 'somber'-riding, considering she was feeling less than joyful.

"Here's your fries and burger," the waitress said softly as she set the plate in front of Buffy; softly like she was afraid of the slayer. Likely Buffy was exuding some bad juju due to her dark thoughts, so Buffy pushed them to the side for the moment. She was hungry and there was food to eat.

Fifteen minutes later Buffy paid her tab and ambled out of the diner. It was late and she had yet to find a place to stay, but she wasn't particularly worried. There was something calling her, urging her to keep walking, and avoid the adventure of finding a nearby hotel.

That 'something' had never been clearly defined by Buffy. It was just this feeling that settled in her gut, heightened her senses, and sent enough adrenaline coursing through her veins to make her feel uneasy. It was the Call to Hunt, more or less.

And after twenty-nine years of being the slayer, Buffy had learned to listen to her instincts. So she walked.

The waxing moon rose higher in the sky, nearly full and easily illuminating the surrounding area. Buffy was grateful for the extra light to hunt in but grunted in annoyance that it also made it harder for her to blend into the shadows.

Walking down the street from the diner, Buffy took in the storefronts of locally owned shops, including a coffee place, salon, and used book store. This side of town was kind of cute, she thought as her hazel eyes took in the small-town look of the place. It reminded her of Sunnydale – well, not the gaping hole it was now but how it used to look when she was a teenager.

A wistful smile crossed her face. She missed the Bronze and hanging out with Xander, Willow, (and hell) even Cordelia. Those were simple times.

Her gut clenched at the thought of Xander and Buffy forced herself not to cry one more goddamn tear.

Yes, those were definitely simpler times, she thought with a bitter smile.

After some time Buffy heard a noise down the block, the scuffling of several pairs of feet and the hissing sound that she had come to associate with vampires. That special something in her chest tightened, as their presence became known to her. Buffy's legs leapt forward as she began to race soundlessly down the sidewalk. A car repair shop came into view. Its parking lot was dimly lit with a fading light and several vehicles cluttered the area – and effectively obstructed her view. A sharp cry rang out, a woman's cry, and Buffy increased her speed.

It felt good, running like this. Slaying was the only constant in Buffy's life, for better or for worse. At least, she opined silently, it made her feel alive during a time in her life when grief always waited in the wings.

Pulling the stake from her jeans, Buffy's sharp eyes took in the sight of four nasty forehead-wrinkly vamps and a lone girl. The girl was taller than Buffy (not that it said much) with long dark hair and deep brown eyes that glittered under the moon's light. Tattoos adorned her body, but they somehow fit the girl. She dressed like a mechanic, with dirty jeans and a stained green t-shirt, so Buffy figured she worked here.

"Crossed bones means your life is forfeit. You have no protection, girl," one of the vampires, a blond guy with enough hair gel to put Angel to shame, cackled.

"I am mate to the Alpha of the Columbia River Pack," she snapped back, anger (surprisingly not fear) flooding her voice. "And Marsilia absolved me of guilt last night. The cross will be removed by morning."

The four vampires shared similar smiles. "By morning we'll be in Seattle, werewolf bitch. Not our fault the vampires here were too slow for some spring cleaning," a red-haired woman grinned. She reached out to grab the girl's arm, but the girl blocked it with a rush of speed that surprised Buffy, and then she crushed the vampire's nose with the heel of her hand.

For a second Buffy wasn't quite sure what was going on. The werewolves had come out of the closet last year (and the fae twenty years before that, thanks to the threat of an army of slayers and a tricky situation) so she supposed it shouldn't be so weird to hear it talked about in the open…but then again this wasn't exactly 'open', was it?

The girl had managed to inflict some pain on the other vamps, but she didn't have a stake and the odds were against her. Quickly the girl was captured, her back to the blond vamp as he eyed her neck.

"Hey!" Buffy's voice rang out into the night, shattering the illusion that this was going to be easy for the bad guys.

They turned to her, and dismissed her after a quick sniff. "Not werewolf," one, an eighties punk styled vamp, snorted in disdain.

Buffy let out a huff of irritation and stalked up to them, knowing she needed to keep their attention on her. "Yeah, not a werewolf," she said with a roll of her hazel eyes. Then a sudden grin tugged at her lips as she let herself play – her last slay had been far too long ago, after all. "I'm something worse than the Big Bag Wolf."

The punk vamp scanned her with yellow skeptical eyes. "Doesn't smell like a wolf and not a vampire," he told his brethren.

Buffy took notice of the girl watching her with a penetrating stare. Recognition of some sort flashed in her dark eyes – she may not know what Buffy was, but she knew she was something Other. With a slight nod of her head – Buffy assumed the girl was a werewolf and would pick up on subtle body language – she gestured towards the vamp behind the girl. The two of them could manage these four weak vamps easily.

Punk vamp turned to her again. "Smells human," he commented, his voice twisted in confusion, as if he couldn't understand why a petite human girl would confront terrifying creatures of the night.

Oh, sigh.

Smiling grimly at his statement, she replied in an irritable voice. "Actually, I'm not. Not anymore."

Then the stake in her hand flashed – near her waist one moment and in the punk vamp's heart the next. Dust exploded over them all, thanks to the damn breeze that had picked up, and the other vampires snarled as they rushed towards her. Fortunately, the girl had been expected the distraction and she quickly took on the one vamp that had been holding her, while Buffy killed the other two. When she was done, she tossed the girl the stake and she easily dispatched the remaining vamp.

As the dust cleared (literally), the two women just stared at each other. Finally, the other girl broke eye contact and gestured towards the ground. "In my experience you have to set them on fire to get them to die."

Buffy's lips quirked up a notch. "You a slayer I haven't heard about?" Her question, however, wasn't serious. Buffy knew each and every one of the slayers – regardless if she had ever met them before or not. They were all in her head, closed off unless she opened the bond she had with them.

The girl – although Buffy probably shouldn't call her that. The woman was in her late twenties…but apparently now that Buffy was freaking forty-four years old, everyone seemed like a youngin'.

Anyways, the woman smiled at her comment, but it was an unsure smile that carried numerous questions with it. "Slayer?" she queried.

"Slayer," Buffy confirmed. "Werewolf?"

The maybe-werewolf's evasive eyes turned towards the garage behind them, and then back on Buffy. "Walker, actually." There was a bit of an apology behind the statement, as if she was asked this question often and felt like she was supposed to be a werewolf.

"Walker?" Buffy thought that sounded familiar…Native American, she decided. Glancing at the woman she noticed that her features were more Anglo than Native, but her skin was dark and her very-straight black hair had that beautiful shine to it that the indigenous peoples of America were blessed with. At first she had appeared Latina, but apparently not.

"Wait," Buffy said quickly as her stance turned more defensive. "Aren't Walkers black-magic mamba jamba people?"

The woman gave her a dry smile. "I'm not one of those, but it's the only name I know for me. I turn into a coyote."

Weird. Trust Buffy to land in a city that had werewolves, vamps, and a freaking coyote. Not to mention the fae had a reservation just ten miles away – god, she hoped she didn't run into any of _them_. "Okay then." Which it was – okay, that is. Buffy was pretty much a total freak herself, so what did it matter?

"Well, I appreciate your help," the woman said quickly after she glanced at her watch. "But I have a date and still have to scrub all the dirt out from underneath my nails." She paused. "You need a lift anywhere?"

The realization that this woman had a date and things to do settled oddly into Buffy's mind. It was like, yet again, she was an observer of life – others carried on their human actions, simple things like dates, while she had no connection. It made her sad, but she quickly waved away the useless emotion. There was _no way_ she was going to treat her immortality like Angel and be a brooding broodster.

"Nah, I'm good," Buffy smiled, a bright cheerful one, like how she used to back when she was just 'Anne' and worked as a waitress.

"Okay then, see you," the Walker said quickly as she went to a VW Bug. It seemed like she was waiting for Buffy to leave before she vacated the premises, so Buffy did. She didn't know anything about coyotes but they were like dogs and thus they were likely territorial.

Buffy was silent as she walked back to the diner to get her car. It was only now, away from the Walker, that her words sunk in a bit more. She was the mate to the werewolf Alpha. That was interesting.

Well, at least she would have something to talk to Oz about tomorrow at lunch.

…that is, if they got tired of discussing how to deal with immortality first.


	2. Catching Up

Catching Up

**A/N:**

Also, the next two chapters set into motion how these universes fit together and what's been going on in Buffy's world these last 22 years. (just to clarify, because I know when I read a little-known crossover, I appreciate explanations within the story/author notes).

***  
Mercy Thompson – mechanic, coyote, and mate to a werewolf – was a no-fuss kind of gal. She liked that Adam didn't mind if she had grease under her fingernails and wore jeans and a t-shirt as her official uniform. It was even more special because Adam, like most Alpha werewolves, was a control freak. Everything was clean, pressed, and he always dressed with impeccable style in various suits.

She grinned as she pinned up her hair. Adam looked especially nice in a suit. Something about the way the tailored jacket fit his broad shoulders…

Shaking herself out of the memory, she finished getting dressed. Jesse, Adam's teenage daughter with his ex-wife, had just called to tell her that Adam was taking her put-putting. Thank god. Mercy could clean up nicely if she had to, but after the fight earlier she just wanted to relax

Unfortunately, she realized as she stepped out of her room and saw two men staring at her in horror, 'relax' was maybe not going to be possible tonight.

Adam, her mate, was the Alpha of the Columbia River Pack. His Slavic features leant to his beauty, as did his impressive werewolf muscles. But it was his sheer power that truly added to his presence. For years she had avoided being with Adam because of the fear she had of his power (not that he would hurt her, but just that he was a powerful werewolf and there were plenty of reasons to avoid those). Adam was the fourth most dominant wolf in North America – right after the Bran, the Marrok (leader of the wolves on this continent), and his two sons, Samuel and Charles.

Samuel just happened to be her roommate (and former boyfriend, but that was a very long time ago). He had moved in a year or so ago because, frankly, he needed it. Samuel was very, very old; and old werewolves don't last for long. They were immortal, sure, but that wasn't always a good thing. As the world changed and people died they tended to get a bit crazy. Her roommate wasn't crazy but he was broken. She knew that. He needed a partner but with her he had instead gotten pack, of sorts. Samuel had come back to Mercy in an attempt to woo her but they eventually realized their love was a different kind. He was still broken, but she knew it helped that he lived here.

So to have two of the most powerful werewolves in the world staring at her was more than a little intimidating. Sure, Mercy had grown up around wolves, but this was a different ballgame. Neither of them had been here when she got home but she bet she knew why they were upset now. She had tried to scrub herself clean in the shower but scent was a tricky thing.

"Hey guys," Mercy greeted with an easy smile. All she wanted was a nice date with Adam. After the experiences of the past few days (her vampire friend Stefan being tortured, the mistress of the local seethe wanting her head, and a powerful vampire in Spokane imprisoning and almost killing her) she _really_ wanted to relax.

"Mercy, why do you smell like vampire?" Adam asked. His voice was calm and cool, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Nope, alpha wolves liked to get deadly calm when they were really angry.

Her shoulders rolled into an easy shrug. "Because I had some show up at my garage," Mercy answered matter-of-factly. Werewolves could sense a lie so there was no point in that. Besides, Adam was her mate and they had promised to not keep secrets from each other anymore.

Both men leaned forward, their expressions flashing to a protective and grim look. "What?" they shouted in unison.

Mercy tried not to fault them, she really did. Dominant wolves couldn't help the protective instinct towards the lower (weaker) pack members. Asking them to cool it was pretty much an impossible command for them to follow (and in an agitated state you _definitely_ did not want to boss around an alpha wolf – unless you wanted to be bit).

For Adam it was even worse. He was her mate and took her safety very seriously. In fact, after he got Mercy from Spokane she knew Adam had been beating himself up about the (uncontrollable) fact that she had been kidnapped. This new situation wasn't going to calm him at all.

"It's okay," Mercy said quickly. "There were four and now they're all dead."

The tension in their bodies lessened but it still remained; an alpha is always ready to fight at the mention of danger.

"Yeah," Mercy continued in a careless voice – because she _did_ not want them worrying about her – "they all went 'poof'." Her nose crinkled in bewilderment. "Since when do vamps turn to dust after just a stake to the heart?"

Adam and Samuel exchanged wary looks. "Dust? Are you sure of it?" Samuel asked.

"Well yeah…Is that normal? Because if so, I'm really annoyed that I needed to set the demon-possessed vampire and Andre on fire," Mercy scowled. Apparently walkers were known as vampire hunters (not that anyone had thought to tell her that while growing up; but she guessed Bran had never known, either. Not too long ago a demon had possessed a sorcerer who had then been turned into a vampire. All hell had broken out and she had killed him, and then killed his maker Andre. The stake to the heart, decapitation, and fire had not been easy, but she had done it. Strangely, she realized that staking those vampires had been much harder than the one she met tonight.

She wondered how that 'slayer' girl had known that these vampires would die with just a stake to the heart. Also, why had their foreheads wrinkled and where did the yellow eyes come from? Stefan, when he hungered, always had red eyes.

The wolves settled into their chairs; knowledge that the threat had passed had stilled the tension. "There are several types of vampires – or half-breeds, as some call them," Samuel began. "The 'dust' kind – what you met tonight, used to flourish over the world because the Change is a simple process for them. Instead of having to feed from the same human for years while exchanging small amounts of their own blood—"

Like Stefan, Mercy thought.

"—those vampires can be turned by being drunk from to the brink of death and then ingesting a small amount of vampire blood," Samuel finished.

Mercy frowned. That must have led to pure chaos.

"About ten years ago," Adam continued. "The numbers for those vampires began dwindling dramatically – because although they reproduce quickly, they are far stupider than the brethren that Stefan belongs to. Less powerful, as well."

"Now there are few remaining in America, although they still flourish in a few select other countries," Samuel said. His brow wrinkled. "To be honest, my da and I have yet to see one in at least five years."

"So what killed them?" Mercy asked. Silently, she wondered why they had come to her garage tonight. Yes, when Marsilia, the mistress of the local vampire seethe, had declared her a traitor for killing Andre and painted the magic 'crossed bones' symbol on her garage, Mercy had been told it would open invitation to lesser evil creatures to do Mercy harm, but she hadn't expected that to actually happen.

Samuel's eyes took on a faraway look; as they did when he delved into his past. "My da knows a bit about them but it was a secret order that did it." He paused. "They're called the Watcher's Council but their true weapon is the slayer – and somehow in the last twenty-two years or so they've expanded their slayer ranks."

Mercy's ears perked up. "Slayer?"

Adam must have felt something through their mate bond because he gave her a sudden look. "What did you see?"

Their mate bond – the standard connection for all mated werewolves – could be pretty neat sometimes. Not only could they feel each other's emotions easier (occasionally) but they could get flashes of memory and thoughts as well.

"That's who helped me, I guess. She was shorter than me, skinny, with blond hair. Called herself a slayer."

Their eyes widened. If she didn't have their attention beforehand, she definitely had it now.

"Slayers have a reputation for killing werewolves – and any other non-human," Samuel stated grimly. "If she's here, the pack is at risk."

"Tell us about her," Adam urged.

***

Buffy smoothed back her hair as she examined her reflection in the Mexican restaurant window. She had slept easily last night, almost too easily, and she had found it difficult to get out of bed this morning. Her dreams had led her down the path of an older, more innocent memory of watching movies at Xander's, and Buffy had found it hard to break free of that spell. Her dreams did that sometimes; they were so vivid that occasionally Buffy almost preferred them to the real thing.

She forced a smile on her face. It had taken a lot to find Oz and their meeting was very important to her. Buffy wouldn't let herself act morose around him. He deserved better.

A few minutes later he walked through the door. Oz was still very Oz-like, she was pleased to note. His hair was an electric blue; nice to see he still dyed his hair. Loose jeans and a slim black t-shirt with an image of Yoda holding a guitar saying "Rock out, I will" comprised his outfit. Green eyes didn't bother scanning the restaurant for her; suddenly his eyes were just on her and he began walking towards her with a crooked smile.

Buffy wondered if he could just feel her presence. Werewolves had weird super senses; she had learned that a while back after some run-ins with them.

"Hey," he greeted with a tilt of his head as he sat down.

The forced smile she wore on her face as armor melted down to a sincere grin. "Hey Oz."

No one had seen Oz since a couple years after Sunnydale when he helped them retrieve a slayer captured by a sorcerer in the Himalayan Mountains. That was when they found out that werewolves were immortal, because Oz didn't look a day older than seventeen, when he was turned. At the time, they didn't get why Oz didn't want to go back with them to work at the Council, but now Buffy was starting to think she knew why.

"Mexican." His eyes twinkled. "I see your tastes haven't changed much."

She laughed. Sunnydale didn't have many places besides the Expresso Pump and the Bronze but there was a Mexican restaurant there that she had loved. "Hey, I'm an L.A. girl. Mexican food is part of the culture."

"There's a large Hispanic population in the Tri-Cities, especially here in Pasco. Food rivals L.A. even." His eyes examined her with ease; she wondered if he was noticing how Buffy had not aged, either.

Internally, she rolled her eyes. Of course he noticed. Oz was the strong silent type that tended to notice everything.

"Awesome," Buffy replied as she looked down at the menu. "I'm in an enchilada kind of mood."

The waitress came and took their orders. Buffy and Oz conversed a little, skirting over important life issues that had nothing to do with being either a werewolf or a slayer. She gave him the updates on everyone. Giles was in his seventies but still going strong. He was the Director of the Council but was little by little giving more authority to Dawn, who was the Assistant Director.

Dawn lived near the Council Headquarters outside of Oxford and was balancing between being a career woman and a mom to three teenagers. Shortly after Sunnydale's demise, Giles was able to bring Kit (with her parents) and (a now-orphaned) Carlos to London to finish high school. Maybe it was the stress of almost world end-age, or maybe it was (most likely) just meant to be, but she had married Carlos shortly after high school. Carlos was a watcher with the Council, using a degree from Oxford in child psychology, and he specialized in slayers from troubled backgrounds.

Willow was doing well – and Buffy was glad that after all these years Oz didn't even bat an eye at the mention of her name – and she lived with her partner with several children they had adopted over the years. Sometimes parents reacted like how Buffy's did when she first told her mom the truth – they kicked the slayers out of their homes. Unlike Buffy's, however, the slayers were truly abandoned. So Willow and her partner, who also came from a bad home, adopted them.

"Who'd she end up with?" Oz inquired once he realized Buffy had never given him a name.

Buffy made a face. "It's really weird. I mean, they were working together for years and just got together a few years ago." Not that Buffy saw them much in the last ten years – especially Willow – but it was still a strange sight.

"Who?" Humor was evident in Oz's voice; apparently he enjoyed watching her squirm.

"Faith," Buffy answered in a rush of air.

Oz just stared at her. Finally he took a gulp of iced tea and shrugged. "I could see that."

One skeptical brow replied in return. "Really?" Buffy asked archly.

He smirked at her reaction. "They both tend to live in the 'now'; even though Willow is a planner in some regards, she's not in many others. Plus, Faith always had an affect on Willow in high school. I thought it was because she was jealous of her friend getting taken away," Oz said as he motioned towards Buffy. "But maybe it was something else."

"Yeah," Buffy said airily. "They do work well together," she admitted. "It's just so weird. Everyone – even Faith, who I never would have expected – paired up with someone."

"Who's Xander with?" Oz took a bite of his burrito and gave her a thoughtful look.

Buffy slammed down her the emotions that threatened to react. She shouldn't have come here to see Oz, not so close to the anniversary. She didn't want to rehash her life. Not now.

Oz's eyes widened slightly and he turned his eyes away as he stirred the straw in his drink. "When?"

Taking a deep breath, she fought to control her senses. "Ten years ago next week. Vampire."

Closing his eyes, Oz shook her head. He didn't have to voice his words. She knew them.

After nineteen years of fighting everything big and bad, how come a mere vampire had finally taken Xander at the tender age of thirty-two?

"It was my fault." Buffy was surprised by the breaking tone of her voice. How was it possible to carry so much grief within one person? Sometimes she thought it would break her.

"Why do you say that?" came Oz's soft response as he laid a hand on her arm.

His touch triggered something within her. Her defenses fell and tears began cascading down her cheeks. She was grateful that they were in a back section, alone.

"She took him, _turned_ him, because of me," Buffy cried. Every emotion that she had pushed back over these weeks came flooding through her now. She hated her tears even while she loved the release of it all; a mild part of her wondered why she was able to cry now, of all places and with Oz of all people.

"He…Xander and I…" Watery hazel eyes met green compassionate ones. "We were going to get married," Buffy explained in a watery voice. Oz looked a little surprised, although not much so, and Buffy smiled in spite of herself. "Let's just say I realized how stupid I had been in my teens and twenties," she commented wryly.

"And what happened?" Oz kept his hand on her arm and Buffy reveled in the warmth it spread through her – and no, not sexy-warmth but a family-type-warmth.

Sighing, she shook her head. Her tears were diminishing but her voice was still rough. "Stupid Harmony, of all people," Buffy said, the bitter in her voice evident. "The fae were out and she wanted to vampires out as well – apparently she and a large group of vamps thought they could shop around a reality TV show and be famous like those Kar-dashing people." She rolled her eyes. "Most vampires weren't interested but Harmony had a sizeable group – and the Council knew if the vampires got brought out, so would we."

"Is that so bad?" Oz asked.

She guessed he was okay with the wolves being out.

Buffy shrugged. "If I knew the alternative, sure." She frowned and shook her head. "But if the slayers came out then we'd have to worry about our girls being taken before we got to them – or hell, even after – and turned into perfect little soldiers for whatever political cause. No, we have to keep them safe."

"So Harmony turned Xander in order to send you a message?"

Xander's image flashed through her brain. They had found him too late, four days after he had been turned. The sight of his yellow eyes…god, they still haunted her.

"A message? Sort of. Harmony thought if Xander was a vampire then the 'Queen of Slayers'" – Buffy made quotation marks with her fingers – "would have more reason to leave the vampires alone and let them come out, especially because Xander was a hero, thanks to his almost-twenty years of battle. Apparently he was to serve as a good example of why vampires were okay. "

She pursed her lips. Harmony was so damn stupid. "She had also planned on using Spike and Angel – on account of their souls – to serve as spokespeople too."

"But the vampires never came out," Oz stated with a quizzical look.

"Exactly. Because the bigger-badder vamps – the secretive kind Giles didn't realize still existed in smaller numbers – took Harmony and her group out." Buffy smiled then, a predator's smile, at the memory.

"And Xander?"

Her smile fell. "Willow staked him."

Oz moved forward in his seat, his jaw dropping just slightly. It took a lot to surprise the laconic werewolf, but apparently this did the trick.

Grief threatened to overwhelm her, but Oz's warmth kept her mind clear. "I wanted her to ensoul Xander, just like Angel and Spike…but she wouldn't." Buffy's lips pressed into a thin line and her hands squeezed together until her knuckles were white. "She said Xander would rather be dead than be a vampire."

"He did hate vampires after Jesse," Oz commented mildly.

Turning to him with blazing eyes, Buffy made an angry noise. But she wasn't angry at him, not really. It was just…

"He would have stayed for me," she said in a small voice, akin to a little girl's voice. "He wouldn't have left me."

"No, he wouldn't have," Oz agreed. Even before Buffy and Xander were romantically involved it was clear Xander would never leave his slayer.

"But Willow said that not only would Xander hate being a vampire, I would regret it later as I aged and he never did. It would pain him to lose me to mortal death and then he would be lost afterwards." Humor weaved into her voice, but it was definitely not the 'funny-ha-ha' sort of humor. It was bitter and ironic, and tinged with anger.

Oz settled back into his side of the booth and observed her. Finally, after a few minutes, he said, "But you don't age, do you?"

Buffy met his eyes, forcibly calming herself. What happened to Xander was a long time ago. She had managed life over the last decade without him but the pain of the upcoming anniversary had made the wounds raw and fresh.

She gave the werewolf a grim smile. "And that's why I needed to talk to you."


	3. Misconceptions

Misconceptions

Oz waited for her to speak. Which was nice and obviously Oz-like of him, but Buffy's mind was filled with so many questions that she was at a loss for words. To kill time, she took a couple bites of her taco. Finally she swallowed and began speaking.

"When Willow used the scythe to activate the other slayers I could feel this…" Her mind didn't know how to describe it – it was far too complex for human speech. "This energy," Buffy lamely explained. "Anyways, it passed through me and I could _feel_ it entering hundreds of girls, each of them slayers."

Oz nodded. He knew the overall story from their brief visit in the Himalayans.

"After that, weird things started happening. One of the new slayers, Rona, got captured by some demons in Istanbul and…I could _hear_ her calling out for help. I could even pinpoint her location." Buffy's lips parted but then she pressed them together. This is where it got weird. But she pressed on nonetheless.

"Stuff like that happened more often. My visions of other slayers increased and over time I began to realize I could hear their thoughts if I forced myself too." Buffy gave him a chagrined smile. "You can probably remember what happened last time I could read thoughts."

A slightly panicked look entered his eyes and he released his hold on her. "Yeah."

Buffy smirked, fondly remembering Oz's philosophical thoughts from that incident in high school. "Don't worry. It only works with slayers."

Oz breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." Then he frowned. "But still probably not good for you?"

She shrugged. "This was a couple years after Sunnydale. There were some days when I thought I would go mad from all the noise in my head…and there were some days when I could handle it okay. Willow taught me meditation, with an infusion of magic, and I've managed since then.

"Giles, Willow, and Dawn ran some tests. They thought everything was tied into the activation spell and realized my powers increased when I was holding the scythe." A sudden smile flitted across her face. "It did come handy in battle once or twice."

"I bet," Oz said with a pensive expression.

"Anyways," Buffy continued with a wave of her hand; she needed to get to the point. "That was all it was – enhanced mental communication with my slayers and, over time, an increase in strength, healing, and agility. By the time I was thirty I was taking on Big Bads that would have killed me easily if I was still just in college or something."

Buffy tapped her nails on the table. She had barely eaten any of her tacos, she noticed. "People began to notice I wasn't getting any older. Still, they chalked it up to my slayer-ness. Even Faith looked good for her age when we were in our early thirties." Of course, Faith was developing fine wrinkles just like anyone else, now.

"A few months ago I ran into a nasty demon who spread some sort of virus through our complex in Rome. It took out the two dozen people there but not me. After I killed it, Giles was curious and called in Willow and some other seers and witches to do some tests." Buffy gritted her teeth. She had never forgiven Willow for what she had done and she never would.

"Long story short, I'm immune to disease and age. I could be killed but even that's tough – I heal quickly and my body is different – like my bones are denser so they're hard to break."

"Whoa," Oz breathed.

"Yeah. So," Buffy shrugged. "Seeing as you're the only immortal human I know – because Angel and Spike? Haven't dealt with immortality in the healthiest ways – I thought maybe you had some tips."

"Tips?" Oz's lips quirked into a brief smile.

She swatted his hand playfully. "Yeah," Buffy said with a roll of her eyes. "Like how you, you know, deal."

Oz gave her a playful smile. "Most werewolves are taught, once they enter a pack, to start an investment portfolio. Immortality is apparently more enjoyable if you have money." He laughed at her expression. "Of course, I spend most of my money on guitars. You should see my house."

Relaxing from the lightened conversation topic – even if it wasn't _truly_ what she had come to discuss – Buffy leaned back in her seat. "I bet," she grinned. "You know, Giles made sure to start one for each of us once he took control of the Council and began issuing us back payments for all of our work." Buffy winked. "My home in Rio has more closets than rooms."

Oz laughed. "Rio?"

Buffy nodded. "For now. I usually move every couple years. I've avoided America since…well, since Xander. After we closed down the Cleveland Hellmouth just nine years after Sunnydale, we don't even have a base here. The Council has focused on Asia, mostly."

Oz nodded. "I didn't plan on coming back, either. Tibet was cool. But…"

"But?"

"But there was a girl I was falling for, the youngest daughter of the Alpha who had taught me how to control my wolf. She felt the same way, but her father disapproved and ordered me to leave." It was the most Oz had said at once during their entire lunch, and she could see the pain still dwelling behind his eyes.

"Why?" Buffy asked, outraged. "What a jerk!"

Her reaction had the desired effect – he smiled. "He knew what it was like to marry a mortal and have mortal children…and the negative effects, especially on his wife. He didn't want that for his daughter."

"Couldn't you have fought for her?"

"Maybe. I was a member of the pack but outside of the pack, so I didn't necessarily _have_ to obey orders. But I knew it was for the best. Bayarmaa deserved a normal life."

Eyes narrowing in a skeptical fashion, Buffy let out a huff of air. Oz's statement reminded her too much of when Angel left her after graduation. "Maybe she just deserved you."

He winced and she instantly felt bad for coming at him like that. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "It's just…Angel did that to me."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "But wasn't that for the best?"

Buffy couldn't deny that. She and Angel weren't meant to be, regardless of what her stupid teenage hormones had thought. "Yeah, it was," she admitted.

Oz nodded. "So about eight years ago I left for America and pledged myself to the…" He paused. "Do you know understand wolf hierarchy?"

Buffy snorted. "Couple years ago I ran into a nasty French werewolf once known as the Beast of Gévaudan. He died and apparently that forced some changes into the wolfy institutions of Europe, so I heard."

"Yeah, we're different than Europe; or so I've been told. America has one ruler, the Marrok, and he oversees every pack. Each pack then has an Alpha. Immigrant wolves have to pledge themselves to the Marrok – of course, I wasn't an immigrant but I had never joined a pack here, so my old Alpha arranged a meeting with the Marrok."

"Hmm." Buffy really didn't know a lot about the wolves. They were a secretive group and she had only come across the Beast because he preyed on women and children – and he made the mistake of preying on one of their youngest slayers. She was really glad he was dead.

"Then the Marrok sent me to the Tri-Cities and now I run a music shop and do guitar lessons on the side." Oz smiled slyly. "Just your average werewolf story."

The opening strands of "Bad Moon Rising" began playing and Oz grabbed his cell phone with a curious expression. "Hey Adam."

"Omega." The voice emitted power, even over the phone, and Buffy bet anything that was a werewolf. "We're having a meeting in one hour. The pack is under threat."

"I'll be there."

The man on the other end hung up and Oz put his phone away with an apologetic expression. "Sorry. Pack business."

"So I heard." Kind of hard to have private phone conversations when you had a super slayer with keen ears around. "Under threat?"

Oz grimaced. "It's been happening more often lately." Then he laughed. "It's probably Adam's mate, Mercy. She gets into more trouble than, well, you back in high school."

"Hey!" Buffy called out in mock-outrage. Then something clicked. "By any chance is Mercy a coyote?"

A guarded look came into Oz's eyes. They were friends, yes, but Buffy suddenly understood that Mercy was Pack and a werewolf never trusted outsiders to Pack information – regardless if they were old high school friends or not.

"I met her last night," Buffy explained. "I was walking and there were four vampires attacking her at a car repair shop. We dusted them pretty quickly and shared what we were, but didn't give names."

Oz visibly relaxed. "Yeah, Mercy owns that garage. She's done a great job at keeping my van alive after all these years." After a pause he added, "Vampires? Like the Sunnydale kind?"

Buffy nodded.

"Odd…Mercy had a run-in with the other kind recently – you know the other kind, Buffy?"

"Yeah. Took us a while to learn about them, actually. Giles thought they were extinct…but they were the ones who killed Harmony; from the L.A. seethe."

"There's a seethe here, too."

Buffy gave him a surprised look. "That's a lot of supernaturals in one city."

"Fae reservation adds extra energy. Not a Hellmouth but definitely makes for a supe playground," Oz explained. "Anyways, we haven't seen the half-breed kind here…Actually, I haven't seen one since coming back to America, actually."

"Ah, well." Buffy gave him a bashful smile. "That would be because of me…after Xander I didn't want to see another set of yellow eyes and crinkly foreheads for the rest of my life. I took the scythe on a coast-to-coast tour of dusting mayhem."

"Good." In that instant Buffy could tell he was pained by the idea that Xander had been killed, and that he was glad she had taken revenge. "But why not the other kind?"

"They're harder to find…and to kill…and besides," Buffy sighed, "they helped with Harmony and her group of reality wannabe vamps, so we made an agreement – unless they threaten me or mine or go further than just keeping a house of sheep, I was to leave them alone." This kind of vampire typically kept ten humans, or sheep, in their homes and regularly fed off of them. It made them keep a low profile since they only had to hunt once every few years.

Oz's brow furrowed. "Doesn't sound like a deal you'd make."

"I know." Buffy took a drink of her soda and suddenly wished she had a margarita. "But I wasn't exactly myself at the time. I was desperate to find Harmony and her gang, and to see them dead."

"Desperate times—"

"Desperate measures," Buffy finished grimly.

The waitress came by with their check and Buffy beat Oz's attempt at handing over her credit card.

"My treat," she grinned as the waitress walked away with a bemused smile.

"You're in my territory and my guest. Should be my treat," Oz argued lightly, a smile tugging at his lips.

"And _you've_ been forced to listen to my sob story," Buffy pointed out. "Sorry about that," she added grimly. "I promised myself I wouldn't go all Negative Nancy on you."

"It's cool. After all, if we're going to both be immortal, it'll be easier with a friend along for the ride," Oz smiled.

Her chest tightened and she wondered if Oz knew the affect his words had on her. Happiness flooded through her and she gave the werewolf a bright smile. "Definitely," Buffy agreed.

***

Oz walked Buffy to her car and they talked about various pop culture things. Thanks to her road trip, Buffy was actually pretty familiar with what was cool on the radio today – although Oz swore that she was listening to horrible contemporary songs and he'd better make some CDs for her in order to better educate her ears.

Finally, they agreed to do dinner again that night, since Buffy wasn't sure how long she would be in town (not to mention, she still had so many questions about immortality). Unfortunately, her car didn't start and after fifteen minutes of messing with it, they both gave up.

"Tow it to Mercy's." Oz suggested. "Maybe she'll give you a vamp-dusting discount."

Laughing heartily, Buffy agreed to have a tow truck take it there. "Not that I'm really hurting for money, but I do love deals."

"I remember," Oz said with a wry smile. "Although I'm sure a car deal is less exciting than a shoe deal."

Buffy liked this, these easy conversations with Oz. When he had dated Willow she never got a chance to really hang out with him one-on-one like this. Before lunch today, Buffy feared it would be 'weird' and now she was thrilled it wasn't. Since Xander's death she had been pretty lonely. Willow's betrayal meant Buffy had cut the witch out of her life, and now that Faith was with her, Buffy barely spoke to the other slayer. Dawn and Carlos had their own lives to lead. Giles…well, he was still always there for her but it pained her to see him aging. Every time she saw him she could feel the cruelty of Time forcing Giles closer towards death.

After the revelation that Buffy was immortal, she was even more so afraid to spend time with her friends and family. A part of her knew she should enjoy every prized moment with them, but it was hard. It was easier just to ignore them and thus ignore the idea of their mortality.

Pulling out her cell phone, Buffy punched in her AAA code to get some towing. After she made arrangements, she thanked Oz for lunch and the info on Mercy.

"I would go with you, but I have the Pack meeting. Tell Mercy I said hi."

"Will do." Buffy hesitated but then pushed ahead and gave Oz a hug. "Good seeing you," she said, her voice soft against his ear. She still was confused and in pain about this immortality gig but Oz had just reminded her that she wasn't alone.

"You too," he said, just as softly, as his arms tightened around her.

***

Buffy rode along with the nice tow truck guy – kind of attractive in that boyish sort of way – and waved after he dropped her and the car off at Mercy's. Frowning, she took in her dirty and banged up car. This Ford had lasted her from Rio, up through South and Central America, and across North America. She'd be damned if she let it die just now.

Strolling into the office, she gave the teenage boy sitting at the desk a friendly smile. He instantly reminded her of a young Carlos with his bronzed skin, warm brown eyes, and an aura of positive energy.

He smiled back. "Hi, I'm Gabriel. What can I help you with?"

"My Ford broke down and I had it towed here. A friend of Mercy's recommended it – and I kind of met her last night – so I thought I'd bring it in," Buffy explained. She grinned as she saw the boy take down detailed notes. He must be a great worker, she figured.

"Well, this shop works primarily on VWs, but Mercy or Zee can probably take a look at it," Gabriel opined.

"Zee?"

"He owned the shop before Mercy but still comes in to help sometimes – the guy's magic with a car." Then, like what he said was particularly funny, Gabriel let out a big laugh.

"Yeah, Oz, said this was a good place to go to." Buffy glanced around the office. It was pretty clean, considering it was a car repair place, and she wondered if Mercy hired a maid or something.

"Oz is your friend?" Gabriel grinned. "Oz is the coolest."

Buffy laughed. She was sure that a laid-back guitar playing werewolf was usually perceived as cool. "Oz come around often?"

Gabriel snorted. "His van is on death's door but he refuses to buy a new one. Said his has a lot of memories, dating all the way back to high school."

High school…Buffy's lips curled into a pleased smile. She would have to see his van, for old time's sake.

"Hey Mercy!" Gabriel called as he opened the door that led to the garage. Instantly the sounds of metal clanking against metal floated through the doorway. "Got a broken car for you; some friend of Oz's!"

"In a minute!" Mercy, Buffy presumed, called back.

Gabriel shut the door and motioned for Buffy to take a seat. "While we wait, I'll get your information."

"Uh." Buffy and the other Council members rarely gave out their true names. Still, she didn't want to falsify herself when Oz's friend could easily find out who she was – that felt like lying. At the same time, she had to be careful. So Buffy gave Gabriel her fake name "Anne Elizabeth Winters".

She smiled to herself. Giles had procured many false identification documents for them and he had scorned her name, saying it was too close to the real thing. But then Buffy put on her 'blond' act and said she couldn't remember anything too complicated, and he had left her alone in a huff.

The thought of Giles sobered her. Her dad had died from a heart attack a few years back, before she and Dawn had reconciled with him, so Giles truly was the only parent she had left. Sure, he was in good health for his age, but he _was_ aging. The day he died…well, Buffy didn't know what she would do with herself.

"Anne?"

Jolted out of her thoughts, Buffy looked up to see the same coyote girl from last night staring at her. She wore jean overalls that were filthy and smelled like oil, and there was a smudge of dark liquid along her jawline. Her dark hair was braided back and her lips were pressed together – not a sneer, but definitely not a smile. Mercy's body language declared she was wary of the slayer within her home – which puzzled Buffy because usually slaying vampires brings people together.

"That's me," Buffy smiled. She didn't move from her chair, however; she wanted to wait and see what Mercy was all about.

"Gabriel," Mercy gestured with a tip of her head at the teenager at the desk, "said you're friends with Oz?"

"Yeah. Back from high school," Buffy informed her.

That made Mercy pause and narrow her eyes at Buffy – dammit, she silently swore. If Mercy was the mate to the Alpha werewolf then of course she must know Oz pretty well…including how old he was.

Oh well. She didn't have much to hide. Buffy doubted that Mercy or her pack mates were her enemies.

"Why don't you head into the garage? Zee and I can push your car in and maybe you and I can talk about it."

Somehow Buffy doubted that Mercy meant the car when she said 'it'.

"Sure," Buffy agreed.

She followed Mercy into the garage and then the coyote shut the door. A dozen feet away stood an older man, tall and skinny, with a pot belly under his shirt. He silently appraised her and she returned the favor. Taking in a deep breath, Buffy breathed in the scent of fae.

Dammit. She had just come here to get her car fixed and suddenly she had two supernatural creatures staring at her like they wanted to give her trouble. Her temper almost reacted, but Buffy yanked it back within her. The years had given her at least some wisdom.

"Why do I get the feeling you want to talk about something other than cars?" Buffy asked with a wry smile as she moved a little to the right. Instinct told her to make sure she had no one at her back, even a coyote.

"Why are you here, Slayer?" the fae spoke. Earlier Gabriel had said some guy named 'Zee' worked Mercy and she presumed this was him; suddenly his remark about Zee's 'magic' with cars made a little more sense.

Except, she frowned, iron hurt fae (she knew this from experience). So how did he do it?

"Are you after the werewolves? Or fae?" Mercy prompted. Her tone was casual but it carried a flash of protective anger within it.

"Actually I'm after a werewolf—" Buffy began.

Mercy growled low in her throat and Buffy glared at her as she rolled her eyes. "Oz, to be specific. He's an old friend and I needed to talk to him. I would never hurt him and I'm not here to bother any of yours."

"Slayers have never been known to leave peace in their wake," Zee commented mildly as he watched her.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Buffy snorted. "The day I find peace will be a cold day in hell…er, something like that. There are lots of hells and I'm sure at least one of them is an ice hell," she mused.

Mercy gave her an odd look. "Since last night I've heard about your kind. You seek out wolves and kill them – along with any other supernatural creature."

"The Church used slayers for a while, long ago, to kill the fae in the lands they invaded," Zee informed sourly. "They are death machines."

"Then, not now," Buffy snapped. Geez, she hated the old Council. "For the last twenty-two years my people and I have been in charge, and we've changed all that." She turned to Mercy. "The only wolves I killed are ones who went after innocents, like the Beast of Gévaudan."

Mercy balked at her tone and looked slightly ashamed of her accusations.

"As for the fae," Buffy growled at Zee, "I only have an issue when they take one of mine."

Apprehension dawned on Zee's features. "You are the reason why the Grey Lords announced ourselves to the world."

"It's a bit harder for slayers to kill murders, rapists, and kidnappers when they're citizens who will be missed," Buffy commented in a severe tone.

She did not like fae. Okay, there were a couple low-powered okay ones, but they were not to be trifled with. Definitely Grade A baddies with a penchant for human flesh. But, now that they had reservations, she and the slayers stayed away – unless someone hurt one of their own.

"Do you plan on killing me, Slayer?" Zee asked. Power leaked into his voice and Buffy had an inkling that the elderly form he took now was just a cover to hide his power.

"Do you kill innocent humans?" Buffy asked with a raised brow.

"Not in many centuries," Zee replied honestly.

"Then, no." Exasperated, she turned to Mercy. "Did I pass your little test? I'm not here to kill anyone and really just need my car fixed."

"Sorry," Mercy apologized with a small smile. "We tend to get a lot of people around here who want to see me or someone else dead."

"Understood." Buffy shrugged as she crossed her arms. "I tend to have similar reactions on people."

***  
_Seattle, Washington_

A low moan emitted from Drusilla's red lips as last night's vision flashed though her mind. All four of her darling children were dead, dead to the world.

Dead, dead, dead; dust in the wind. All as if they never had been.

Rising from her canopy bed, Drusilla performed a melancholy dance that whispered her sadness with each light shuffle of her foot.

It was that nasty slayer, blond and shining. Thief of hearts, thief of her darling Spike and Angelus.

Lightning quick, Drusilla's hand grabbed a nearby porcelain doll with blond hair and she threw it to the floor. The crashing of the glass was like a million tiny screams.

Drusilla ever so liked screams.

She laughed suddenly and twirled in circles as the revelation struck her. The Slayer had not ventured into this country in years, not since she massacred almost every one of them. But now, she was here.

It was a sign.

Giggling, giddy with anticipation, Drusilla called for one of her minions. There was work to do.

And soon, very soon, she would hear the naughty Slayer scream and punish her for her misdeeds.


	4. Dining with Wolves and a Coyote

**Dining with Wolves and a Coyote**

A/N:

I need to preface this to **apologize** for my lack of replying to reviews. Typically I'm pretty good at it, but I thought "Hey, I'll reply right before my next post" but here is my next post months later and I am exhausted and need to sleep. But please know I _really_appreciate the reviews and will respond once life eases up a little (I'm moving out of state this week).

Also, thank you to those who have recently reviewed – you sparked some inspiration :)

And I know it's been a while, so here's a review:  
When we last left off, Buffy and Samuel had fought at Mercy's garage before the wolf learned from Mercy that Buffy was not an enemy. And Oz had the pleasure of explaining to his pack that he just had lunch with the terrifying 'enemy' that they were so worried about.

* * *

They drove separately to Adam's house.

Mercy had already offered Buffy a spare car to drive over the next couple days while Zee worked on her Ford, and now the slayer drove that car behind Sam and Mercy. Mercy could have, of course, been a nice hostess and ridden with Buffy in order to give her directions or, hell, driven her own car, but there was no way she was letting Samuel Cornick get away with what he had just pulled.

"Fight first, ask questions later – it's always the same with you werewolves," Mercy grumbled as she crossed her arms in the passenger seat and stared at her roommate and former boyfriend.

Samuel, appearing deep in thought as his blue eyes kept glancing up from the road to the rearview mirror to check on Buffy's vehicle behind them, merely grunted in response.

"You know," Mercy bit off – not truly angry but still wanting him to know what he did was not okay, "you could have just called me if you were worried. Maybe _ask _if I the big bad Slayer was hanging around before nearly wrecking my garage in a supernatural showdown."

Samuel gave her his patented concerned-overprotective 'look'. "Mercy, you've dealt with deadly fae, demon-possessed vampires, and other nasties in the last couple years. Do you really expect me to think that a human known for killing supernatural beasts _wouldn't _stumble across you, little coyote?"

Mercy shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the truth in Samuel's words – but also irritated at being patronized like a little girl. "Yes," she responded in an even tone – when arguing with a werewolf it was always best to remain calm. "But I always took care of myself. And sometimes, like with the demon, took care of _you_," Mercy reminded him pointedly.

Giving her a grim smile, Samuel nodded. "Okay. But that doesn't mean I don't worry." His eyes suddenly focused entirely on the road in front of him. "You're Pack, Mercy."

Warmth settled over her and Mercy laid a hand on his arm. "You're my Pack, too," she replied softly.

Sometimes she forgot that she was all Samuel had, support-system-wise, at the moment. Worry flashed through her again and she hoped her words confirmed for him that he was one of _hers _and he better not ever do something stupid. Old wolves sometimes got tired of living and committed suicide…like her foster father.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Mercy turned a new set of eyes onto Samuel. "Considering how you flirted with her, I guess you're alright with the Slayer now?" Mercy asked lightly.

It would take more than mere teasing to force an old wolf to flinch but Mercy did see the skin at the corner of his eyes tighten slightly. "Flirting?" Samuel repeated with an easy smile. "What's the matter Mercy – are you jealous?"

Mercy rolled her eyes. The two of them had kissed not too long ago and, after the complete boring lack of sparks, realized there was nothing between them but platonic love. "Don't try to change the subject, Sam. Your shift in attitude was pretty drastic. Are you really okay with the Slayer?"

Samuel was silent. His eyes flickered at the rearview mirror, checking out Buffy driving behind them. Finally he answered her in a soft voice. "It's been a while since I've been challenged – since my _wolf _had been challenged. I think we were both…intrigued. After it was determined she was no longer a threat," Samuel added.

She filed away the word 'intrigued' as a synonym for 'turned on', considering she had watched Samuel's eyes check out Buffy's rendition of wet t-shirt night. Mercy gave him a careful look. "She's a friend of Oz's," Mercy informed him. For some reason she felt obligated. Oz was a friend of hers and even though Buffy swore that she was not planning on dating the musician, Mercy felt like she should warn Samuel.

"Hmm. A challenge." A ghost of a smile drifted onto Samuel's lips, increasing as he glanced into the rearview mirror again.

"Oh god," Mercy snorted. Then realization flashed across her mind. Samuel was competitive as hell, stubborn, and controlling. Poor Oz. "Don't even treat Oz like you treated Adam," she warned, thinking of how Samuel had originally come to the Tri-Cities to win her love over Adam.

Samuel laughed and Mercy silently marveled at her friend's lighthearted response. She had been worried about Samuel so much lately…maybe Buffy was just the spark he needed to get back on track.

* * *

Buffy marveled at the freaking mansion-like house that sat on a lot right next to Mercy's trailer. Honestly, this deserved to be the picture for the definition of 'irony' in the dictionary. Adam Hauptman's home was elegant and refined, with plenty of space and a backyard that traveled into the nearby woods. It definitely looked like it could fit a pack of werewolves.

Speaking of which…Buffy's nose crinkled in distaste as she could practically smell over a dozen werewolves inside the home. Her sense of smell was not very good but the overall supernatural 'aura' of a werewolf was enough to blink on her radar, so tons of werewolves? Yeah, definitely tingling up and down her spidey-senses.

"Afraid of the big bad wolves?" Samuel asked her in a teasing tone, his voice drifting from behind her.

Buffy fought a startled response – Sam was definitely good at sneaking up on people. Looking back, she saw him staring at her and Mercy walking up the driveway.

"Not if they're like you. Then it'll just be like dealing with a litter of puppies," Buffy snarked back in reply.

Mercy gave the slayer a wry smile. "More like large and cranky puppies," she corrected as she began to lead them up to Adam's front door.

Buffy shrugged. "I've seen worse."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Samuel watching her with interest. "I would like to hear stories of 'worse' some time. I imagine you've seen a lot as the slayer."

"_A _slayer," Buffy corrected him automatically. "There hasn't been only one for a long time." It was a fact that had required some getting used-to in the beginning, but that had been a twenty years ago and Buffy had dealt.

"I heard about that. About twenty years ago, right?" Samuel commented casually.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. She really hated politics, especially supernatural politics. She could almost feel the werewolf trying to pry her age and her entire background out from her. Well, too damn bad for him. Considering he tried to kill her earlier, she wasn't in a very sharing mood.

Samuel noted her silence on his question and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

Mercy walked up the Alpha's front steps and knocked on the door. "Now play nice," she stated sternly. "Nothing worse than a bunch of dominants trying to piss all over themselves trying to prove they're the biggest and baddest."

Buffy laughed. She liked Mercy's attitude. "Bet you have to see that a lot, hanging around with wolves all the time."

"More than I'd like," Mercy snorted.

The tan cedar door opened, revealing a dark-haired man whose size was barely contained by the door frame; although he was slightly under six feet he was built like a wrestler. His eyes went to Mercy first, then Buffy. An unreadable expression shadowed his face and he nodded towards her.

"Between Oz and Mercy it seems we've heard a bit about you. Welcome to the Tri-Cities, Slayer. I am Adam Hauptman, Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack. Welcome." His voice was rich and deep; it carried great authority.

"Thanks," Buffy said flippantly. Ugh, she hated politics and being all proper. It just wasn't her. "And you can call me Buffy, by the way. Slayer sounds so death metal band."

The corner of Adam's lip quirked up. "Buffy, then." He glanced at Samuel and Mercy. "Come on, let's go inside to talk. I sent the pack home, except for Oz."

Buffy's eyes brightened. "Oz is here? Awesome." That meant the evening wouldn't be quite so awkward.

She failed to notice the way Samuel's eyes paled slightly at her enthusiasm.

She followed Mercy and Adam into the house, and immediately was in awe. The living room had vaulted ceilings and a white Berber carpet; it looked so soft that Buffy almost wanted to take her shoes off. The furniture was finely crafted and the artwork on the walls looked to be originals, so Buffy presumed that Adam was doing pretty well for himself.

Now she was beginning to think that Oz was being serious about werewolves all creating investment portfolios. Crap. Maybe she needed to start one, too.

"Come on back to the dining room," Adam called over his shoulder. "I started grilling earlier in preparation for the pack meeting – and when that ran short we ended up with some leftovers."

So they just had a pack meeting? Buffy smirked and wondered if it was about the 'big bad slayer'. Jeez, slayers were like child actors – in that everyone thought of the early years. People remembered them for being the mass murdering machines of the Watchers Council and no one seemed to pay attention to the fact that, hey, they only killed evil monsters.

Buffy's eyes bugged out a little once they entered the dining room, complete with a fancy china cabinet and a table that seated fifteen. "Host a lot of dinner parties?" she commented with a smile as Adam gestured for them all to sit.

Adam gifted her with a sudden smile. "Being the Alpha means always keeping my home open to my pack – which tends to usually include food."

"Speaking of," Samuel said with a nod of his head as Oz came in from the back yard carrying a tray of hamburgers fresh from the grill.

"Hey," Oz greeted them. He set the burgers at the end of the table, near everyone's seat. "Dig in."

The coyote and wolves began loading their plates with burgers and all the works, appearing extremely comfortable here. Buffy hated to admit it, but she suddenly felt like an outsider. After all, she had been avoiding large groups of people for a while now, so this was definitely different.

"Buffy, help yourself. I thought it would be good to eat before we talk," Adam prompted her.

"Werewolves," Mercy sighed with a roll of her eyes grinning all the while. "It's always about food with them."

"I'd rather be obsessed with food than that decaying beast of yours out there," Adam growled good-naturedly.

"Beast?" Buffy repeated cautiously. In a town full of fae, wolves, vampires, and coyotes, she was ready to expect anything.

Oz and Samuel laughed while Mercy smiled sweetly in her mate's direction. "The 'beast' that Adam is referring to is my dear Rabbit that I am slowly – ever so slowly – fixing." She grinned at Buffy and explained. "This 'control freak' over here needs to learn his lesson so I began stashing my Rabbit right in the line of sight of his bedroom window a while back. At this point it's been spray-painted, has lost three wheels, and is the ugliest car out there."

Mercy and Adam began bickering but Oz, sitting next to Buffy, whispered to her. "Is something wrong with the food?"

Buffy winced. Her mother had trained her to have good table manners and accept the food of her hosts, but this was a little much for her. "Um, I think you guys forgot that super rare burgers aren't usually the best for people who don't shift into four legs under the full moon."

No use whispering around a bunch of supernatural people. "Sorry Buffy," Oz apologized. "Habit. Here, I'll put a couple back on the grill."

"No, that's okay—"

Amber eyes gave her a stern look. "It's no big deal. I'll be right back." Oz exited into the backyard with the tray of burgers once more.

Great, so now she was back with the strangers again. Well, Mercy felt less like a stranger after the conversation in the shop. But still.

"So what brings you to the city, Buffy?" Adam asked.

Buffy carefully noted how he seemed to be the one taking charge of the conversation. Maybe that was because he was the Alpha?

"She's here to visit Oz, Mr. Fifty Questions." Mercy rolled her eyes. "Let the girl eat, Adam."

Buffy inwardly laughed. It was cute that the late twenties coyote thought Buffy's forty-two year old self was 'a girl'.

Oz returned quickly and Buffy set to eating, listening to the small talk that flittered around the table. She observed how Oz would glance at her often to make sure she felt okay, which she appreciated. However, she was less sure how she felt about Samuel's eyes traveling to her so often during dinner. He was hot, yeah, but she trusted him about as far as she could throw him – and since a wolf's density was crazy intense, she knew it wouldn't be a far throw.

Once they were finished eating Adam began clearing the table and spoke to her in a casual tone.

"So, Buffy, do you plan on staying here long?"

"Haven't really thought that far in advance," Buffy shrugged. "Right now my car is at Mercy's garage waiting for Zee to bring her back to life." A calendar featuring artists' rendering of wolves running through an open field caught her eye. Remembering what next week was, she added, "But I'll be heading to California next week, so hopefully the car will be fixed by then."

"What's in California?" Samuel asked curiously.

_My fiancé's grave site_, Buffy thought scornfully. See, that was why she avoided people – they asked too many questions. Maybe she was wrong about coming here and being all social.

"Personal," Buffy replied. She gave the werewolf a hard look, silently warning him against pushing further on that topic.

She felt Oz's arm brush against her elbow and instantly Buffy felt herself relaxing. She was just being cranky on account of being attacked twice in two days and dealing with the powerful auras of a bunch of shape shifters – goddess knew that the stronger the creature, the more powerful their aura. She could tell that not only was the Alpha powerful, but so was Samuel; and the feel of it took some getting used to.

"We should make plans while you're here. The Columbia River and forests are beautiful," Oz offered.

"Yeah, the river is right behind Adam's house – the view more than makes up for my Rabbit," Mercy added with a wide smile in her mate's direction.

"That might be fun," Buffy stated casually. Her emotions were so out of whack this close to the anniversary of Xander's death that she couldn't trust herself to socialize too much. "I might just hang out in my room for a bit, too; it's been a hectic road trip."

"Where are you staying?" Adam queried. "One of the downtown hotels?"

"The Ritz," Buffy answered.

Mercy shared a glance with her mate. "You'd be more than welcome to stay at Adam's," Mercy offered graciously. "He's got three extra bedrooms."

"Oh, no, that's okay," Buffy said with a wave of her hand. "I wouldn't want to impose – especially," she added with a mild smirk, "when I've already had one werewolf attack today."

Adam's lips twitched; Buffy presumed that Mercy had probably called him. Oz, it seemed, did not know.

"When? Who?" Oz asked intensely, his green eyes alert.

Buffy jerked her thumb over to Samuel, who was looking very put-out.

"Why did you attack Buffy?" Oz asked, his calm voice hinting at something much darker.

"Easy, Omega. It was all a misunderstanding," Samuel said with a genial look. "We're both fine."

Oz nodded, but he didn't appear satisfied. However, Buffy was touched by his reaction – it was nice to have someone watching her back again. It had been a long time since someone really cared.

Then she repeated Samuel's words in her head and remembered overhearing Adam say to to Oz on the phone earlier. "Omega? Why do people keep calling you that? Isn't that a frat word?"

"It is a Greek word," Oz said nonchalantly.

Adam looked around the room at the other shifters with a questioning look. Feeling satisfied with what he saw, he turned to Buffy. "We don't usually speak of wolf things to an outsider, but maybe we can share a few secrets together."

Buffy understood that he wanted to learn more about the slayers. Considering that the wolves were more likely to kill any slayer they found since they thought slayers killed all wolves, maybe it would be helpful to spell a few things out. She glanced at Oz for confirmation that this was a good idea and saw him nod slightly.

"Alright, we can work that angle. So. Omega?"

Adam went on to explain that Omegas were very rare werewolves who existed outside of pack structure, not dominant or submissive, and brought happiness and satisfaction to any wolf that encountered him or her. Also, apparently Samuel's new sister-in-law, Anna, was an Omega.

Buffy grinned at the revelation. "Really not surprised that the master of zen over here is an Omega wolf. Heck, he was even cool and collected when our Mayor turned into a giant demon snake."

Three pairs of eyes darted over to Oz, widening in shock.

"Oz…your mayor turned into a giant…demon…snake?" Mercy asked with a jaw-dropping look.

"It's a long story," Buffy prefaced.

"He was evil. Buffy blew him up." Oz's eyes glinted with amusement but his facial expression was otherwise devoid of emotion.

"Apparently not that long," Buffy amended with a sly smile.

Those same three pairs of eyes swiveled back to her.

"You blew up a demonic snake?" Samuel repeated, sounding impressed by her deeds.

Buffy shrugged. That was ancient history. Well, awesome ancient history, but ancient nonetheless.

"Sounds like you've been holding back on us, Oz," Adam remarked with a grin.

"It's probably because telling stories involves talking, and that's not very Oz-like," Buffy teased.

Oz's lips twisted in a smile. "I talk."

The table erupted into light laughter. As the night passed, Buffy grew more comfortable with the shifters and ending up recounting some of their Sunnydale years with Oz. She even told them about the First Evil and why they awoke the slayers, but she left out the details. After all, she wasn't very good at trusting people…

Because once your best friend in the world backstabs you, you learn that trust is a pretty meaningless thing.

* * *

Captured in dreams of gleaming yellow eyes and Xander's transformed visage, Buffy was unable to gain much sleep that night. Eventually she tired of lying in her hotel bed and got out of bed once the sun rose. She spent time in the Ritz's gym and pool, working her body until even her supernatural muscles were crying in pain, and proceeded to watch some morning news shows.

Yes, she was that bored and tired that she was watching the news. Oh, how Giles would clean his glasses and shake his head at that.

Lounging in bed, Buffy went over her options for the day. She could go shopping…except shopping made her suddenly think of Xander would roll his eyes and groan whenever she would tell him she had to make "just one quick stop!" whenever they passed a mall. Feeling wounded, Buffy bit her lip and curled her legs against her chest. Okay, so no shopping then.

Her cell phone rang and Buffy stared at it for a moment, debating on answering (she honestly wasn't in the mood), but then she saw that it was her niece.

"Hey Sofia, how's my favorite girl doing?" Buffy asked with a smile. She hadn't spoken to her family or friends very much at all since the big 'immortal' revelation a couple months ago; it was too bittersweet to realize that she would have to watch the people she love die one by one.

Buffy blinked back sudden tears and forced herself to continue smiling so Dawn's daughter could not hear anything wrong in her voice.

"Aunt Buffy!" Sofia greeted cheerfully. "Are you up yet? I was hoping you were up. I mean, it's like five o'clock here so it's gotta be morning over there by now, right?"

Buffy winced at listening to the speed of Sofia's speech; it was like all teenagers were coded to speak as quickly as a hummingbird's wings. "Yup, I'm up. Just got done with a workout. What's the what?"

Silently, Buffy wondered if Dawn or Carlos had told their three daughters about Buffy's issue. Dawn, ironically, was incredibly protective of her daughters and made them on a need-to-know basis for almost everything supernatural-related. The irony lie in the fact that Dawn had been amazingly nosy as a teen and who would have thought her daughters would end up the same way?

Buffy smirked.

"It's _Mom_," Sofia groaned. "I got my acceptance letter to Berkeley and she doesn't want me to go. She wants me to go to stupid Oxford like her and dad."

"You know she just worries about you leaving. We don't have any slayer bases in America anymore and you could be at risk," Buffy reasoned. While she normally encouraged rebellion, she had seen too many deaths over the long years and never wanted anything to happen to her family.

Sofia whined childishly and Buffy chuckled, feeling warmth free up her heart from its earlier coldness. "But Aunt Buff_y _, you have to talk to her! I mean, I'm already showing a lot of growth in my witchcraft and there is an awesome coven in San Francisco that could help me with protection spells."

Further in the background, Buffy could hear Dawn's voice. "Sofia, who are you talking to?"

"Aunt Buffy!" Sofia called back.

There was a rustling sound and suddenly Dawn's breathless voice sounded through the phone. "Buffy."

"Hey," Buffy responded quietly. She felt bad about taking off from the Council after Willow diagnosed her condition without talking to Dawn, but she knew Giles would fill Dawn in on the situation.

"How are you?" Dawn inquired quietly, like she was talking to a dying person.

_Which couldn't be farther from the truth…_

"Good." A small but sincere smile stretched along her lips. "Actually, I'm visiting Oz in Washington."

"OZ?" Dawn shouted.

Buffy snorted with laughter, drawing a comparison between teenager Dawn and late-thirties Dawn – there really weren't that many differences at times.

"Yeah. Decided to stop by and see him."

"Been a long time."

"Yup."

After a thoughtful pause, Dawn continued. "Ah…aren't werewolves immortal? I could have sworn I read that somewhere…" There was the sound of fingers clacking away on a keyboard and Buffy instantly knew her sister was in research mode on her laptop.

"Glad to see the Assistant Director of the Watchers Council still is down with her book knowledge," Buffy commented drolly.

"Shut up." Buffy could almost imagine the scowl lining Dawn's face. "So how is he?" Dawn asked.

"Real good, actually. He has a nice pack here and they all seem to like him – which is good, because once they found out our connection they were real friendly to me. By the way, have you ever heard of an Omega wolf?" Buffy added.

Dawn let out a bark of laughter. "Sure, there's a lot of lore on werewolves, and the Omegas are like one of their fairy tales – so super special wolf that gives off warm fuzzies."

Buffy smiled from ear to ear – wasn't too often that she one-upped Dawn on knowledge. "So you think they're not real?"

"No." This time Buffy could almost hear Dawn's eyes rolling around in her sockets.

"Ah, how strange," Buffy mused in a soft voice with a Cheshire Cat grin. "Because apparently Oz is one."

"WHAT?"

Buffy laughed and the coldness retreated further from her heart. She spoke to Dawn for a while longer, giving her the scoop, before finally hanging up so Dawn could make dinner.

With her melancholy on a reprieve, Buffy decided to walk around Kinnewick, the southern part of the Tri-Cities where she was staying, and go find her old friend the Omega.

* * *

A/N:

Thank you for reading!

PS: I found the various reviews to be quite interesting...seems we have quite a few pulling for Buffy/Samuel (which I expected) but then some surprise Buffy/Oz... :)


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